


The Twelfth Day

by darkestbliss



Category: Muse
Genre: AU, Child Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkestbliss/pseuds/darkestbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wasn't looking for a summer fling...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Twelfth Day

The first day I saw him, I thought nothing of him. He was just another teenager like me, forced into a boring as fuck holiday with his parents at a snobby rich people’s resort in a real touristy part of Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.

 

He was sitting near the pool - the shallow end - with his toes dipped in the water and a book grasped between his long fingers. Interesting, I thought. Here he was, in what was considered paradise by everyone around him, and he was fully clothed except for his feet and sitting in the shade. His pale skin could've used a few rays; he looked unhealthily white.

 

I was distracted at that point in time by my mother, calling me from her place poolside with a piña colada dangling in her hand, perspiration gathering on the edges of the glass. I turned around, away from him, and walked over to where my mom and dad were discussing lunch ideas. By dinner time, I'd completely forgotten about him.

 

~

 

The second day I saw him, he was swimming. It was early - the sun had barely risen over the horizon - and he was the only one in the pool. I watched him from my bed, which was positioned directly in front of the large french door which lead out to the terrace and overlooked the entire resort. He was just a small speck in the pool, his sharp black hair and pale skin a mirage beneath the soft lapping of the water.

 

I smiled as I watched him. He fascinated me.

 

I scooted toward the end of my bed, retrieving my tee shirt and slipping it on. Scratching my lower back and stretching, I grabbed my swim shorts and quickly changed from my boxers.  With a quick glance into my parents' adjoining room, I shoved my toes into my sandals and grabbed the room key before quietly heading out the door and moving down the stone flight of stairs that lead to the center of the resort, consisting of the two pools, a bar, a restaurant, and the walk that lead down to the crashing waves of the ocean.

 

I smiled and whistled to myself as I felt the tropical sun warm my skin. It was quiet; families were still sleeping and the early morning staff were just wheeling their carts to prepare things for the day.

 

“¿Cómo estás?” a chipper staff member said to me as he walked by, a clipboard held in his hand and a walkie talkie in the other.

 

“Good morning!” I replied with a chuckle. Briefly I considered answering in Spanish, but changed my mind. I didn't want to embarrass myself with my lack of the other language in front of the boy who was now watching me from his place in the pool.

 

The staff member nodded at me and continued on his way. The boy had turned around and was floating on his back, staring up at the brightening sky. I took the opportunity, throwing my beach towel on a spare bench and removing my shirt and sandals. With a gentle plunge, I found myself engulfed by the warm water, my toes wiggling to touch the intricate mosaics on the bottom.

 

The splash must've caught the boy's attention, because he quickly whipped around to stare at me.

 

I would be lying if I said his eyes weren’t the brightest of blues I'd ever seen. Okay, that sounds incredibly lame, but it was quite possibly true. It was like staring into sapphires, intricately etched and shined so that they sparkled in even the faintest of light. They, quite literally, engulfed me.

 

I wasn’t looking for a summer fling; I found those childish and lame, more for 15 year olds who go off to summer camp for the first time, not 18 year olds on vacation with their parents at a luxurious resort in Mexico before they headed off into college and the real world. Still, if a man held a gun to my head and forced me to have a summer fling with one person in the world, I would’ve chosen him. Not like that would ever happen, though.

 

I gave the boy a little wave from my spot in the pool, water splashing about from where I lifted my hand from beneath the surface. He blushed, looking like he wanted to turn around but refusing. He really was quite odd.

 

“Hello!” I said with a smile, ensuring eye contact so he knew it was him I was talking to (not like there was any other person to talk to at that hour).

 

“Uhh,” he stuttered, looking down at the water. I smiled again and moved toward him so he couldn’t escape. “H-hi?” he said questionably. “Umm... May I help you?”

 

My heart skipped a beat. His voice, dear Lord. No I was not a typical American teenager who was obsessed with British accents. Those people piss me off because it’s annoying and quite shallow. Instead, my interest for different languages perked up, because yes, he was English, that I could tell, but I also heard something else there. I was not expecting it from him, the tiny pale kid I somehow found an interest in that morning.

 

“I’m Dom!” I said, attempting to keep the squeal out of my voice upon hearing the accent. I tried to use my prior knowledge of many foreign language classes to pinpoint the slight dip I heard at the end of his question. “I’m sorry, this must be so weird. I just thought I’d say hello, you know, it’s a bit lonely here, really.”

 

“Oh!” he said, giving me a tiny smile and seeming to relax a bit. “Yeah,” he chuckled, lifting his arm to brush the wet strands of hair off his forehead. “I’m Matt! Mum and Dad dragged me along with them here. I’d much rather be back home with my mates, last summer before uni and all.”

 

“Me too!” I exclaimed, grinning widely. “Where are you from?”

 

“Just outside of London.” He looked at me, saw my smirk, and gave a little giggle. “But I’m originally from Spain. Like, I’m English, but my family was living in Spain when I was born,” he babbled. “Hence my incredibly pale skin.”

 

“Do you speak Spanish?!” I asked excitedly.

 

“Only a few terms now, unfortunately,” he replied, twirling his hand through the surface of the pool. “I lost most of it when we moved to England. When we go back to visit I can pick it up fairly well though! And of course, here too.”

 

I smiled widely. “That’s amazing! I’m sorry if I sound like a stupid American, but all we have are country people who are like ‘Yeehaw, tractors and beer!’ and it’s nice to hear something new every now and then!”

 

Matt suddenly let his head fly back, and he let out a huge laugh. “Oh goodness, that’s fucking great,” he said, shaking his head and giggling. “I’m sorry for laughing.”

 

“Don’t be,” I giggled. “It’s embarrassing but hilarious.”

 

“I agree,” he said with a smile.

 

We looked at each other for a bit after that, smiled some more, swam around the pool a few times, chatting about nonsense, then dried ourselves off once the pool began to be a bit more crowded. We grabbed breakfast from the buffet together, and after I wrinkled my nose at how much milk he put in his tea, sat down on some of the lounge chairs and talked some more.

 

It was a great second day.

 

~

 

The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth days went very much the same as the second day did. I found myself very attached to Matt; I didn’t want to think about the day he and his family left and we would have to say goodbye to each other. I really liked him as a friend, and I wanted to like him as more.

 

He told me all about his friends back home, and seemed to smile especially wide when he talked about a certain girl, named Kelly. That shot down my chances, of course. Still, he was a good friend; I was glad I had that much.

 

At lunch, his mum and dad and my parents decided to join us. Matt pecked his mother on the cheek and glanced to the right at his dad, but said nothing. Later, I saw him flinch when his dad brought his hand to his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. We were sitting next to each other, and his other hand was under the table. With a quick glance downward while his dad was whispering something into his ear, I could see Matt’s fingers visibly trembling. I didn’t have the chance to ask him about it.

 

~

 

The seventh day we didn’t see each other until night. In fact, we wouldn’t have seen each other at all if he hadn’t knocked on my door near nine o’clock in the evening. I opened it with confusion, throwing a hand across my head through my tousled hair. When I saw him in the doorway, visibly shaking even though it was close to eighty degrees Fahrenheit outside, I ushered him inside quickly.

 

He walked in and looked around the room before sitting down at the edge of the bed, staring at the television screen. I was watching Lord of the Rings with English subtitles.

 

“Do you want to go out to town with me tonight?” he asked suddenly. He seemed like he was trying not to cry.

 

I said yes, of course. After letting my parents know that I was going out, we rode in a cab down a small dirt road, finding ourselves at a cantina thirty minutes later, downing bottles of Corona like our lives depended on it.

 

~

 

The eighth day I kissed him. It was three in the morning and we were in the cab going back to the resort. I didn’t mean to, honestly. My alcohol level was just at the point where I did things without thinking them through first.

 

The thing that was so great about it though was that he kissed me back.

 

“I thought you were straight?” I asked with a gasped breath, cupping his cheek and kissing him again.

 

“I did?”

 

“That girl-” I moved my hands to his waist and squeezed gently “-Kelly.”

 

“No,” Matt moaned. “My best friend. I thought you were the straight one.”

 

“I don’t think you need to worry about that any longer,” I replied. I sat back in the seat of the cab and smiled, looking at him. His skin was blushed and his lips were shining and his eyes were still blue, even in the darkness of the early morning. He was fucking gorgeous. And I told him that.

 

Just then, the cab pulled up to the front of the resort. The driver turned around, and upon seeing us lip locked, began screaming out frantic Spanish and shooing us out of the car.

 

“Repugnante,” he screamed. “¡Fuera, maricones!”

 

I had no idea what he said, and fished through my pocket for the pesos I knew I had there.

 

“No, no dinero,” he said. “Fuera, ahora.”

 

“Dom,” Matt whispered, pulling on my shirt and leading me away. “We need to go.”

 

I frowned, but held on tightly to Matt’s hand as we walked away. Matt quickly turned around at the squealing of tires, flashing his middle finger to the driver as the cab pulled away.

 

“What was all that about? What did he say?” I asked, confused when Matt started laughing.

 

“He just called us a very bad thing-” Matt giggled and shook his head “-but right now I want to make out with you so bad that I don’t really care.”

 

The smile I gave must’ve nearly cracked my face in half when I heard him say that. I began leading him to my room but he quickly changed our direction, instead leading us toward the deserted beach.

 

The waves were crashing into the sand, giving me a soundtrack to the kisses I laid against his pale skin. Our shoes were left on the wooden steps that reached down to the beach, and I began to tug on his shirt so it could join our shoes in a place that wasn’t on his body. I wanted to see him completely bare.

 

“Dom, no,” he mumbled when I tried to bring it over his shoulders.

 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. I’d already seen him without a shirt on, three times, in fact. “It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything,” I said, removing my hands.

 

“No, I just...” I leaned forward and pressed another kiss to his lips. He was looking down, his eyelashes laying across his high cheekbones. He sighed and took a deep breath, reaching for the hem of his own shirt, to my delight. “Please don’t tell my mum,” he whispered. “Whatever you do, please don’t tell her.”

 

“Okay,” I said, slightly confused.

 

The second his tee shirt landed with his shoes and the moon cast a glow over his body, I was no longer confused. I did not expect to see that fresh bruise forming under his ribs, nor did I like to see it. I shook my head and pressed my hand lightly on it, watching as he violently flinched at the touch.

 

“Matt,” I whispered. “What did he do to you?!”

 

He didn’t reply to me; he only cried, and I was left to try and comfort him in anyway I could. He was trembling, so I quickly lifted him up, grabbed our shoes and his shirt, and carried him back up the steps. The late nighters at the bar gave us a weird look when we walked past, but I ignored them. I clutched Matt close to my chest, and carried him to where my and my parents’ rooms were. With a swipe of the keycard, we were inside, and I tucked Matt into the left side of my bed.

 

After returning from the bathroom with my toothbrush in hand, I watched him shiver beneath the thin blanket. With no more words, I stripped down to only my boxers and crawled into bed next to him. Putting my arm around him and gently kissing the back of his neck was possibly the greatest feeling I’d had in my life up to that point.

 

~

 

On the ninth day I had sex with him and told him I loved him.

 

We walked down the beach all day in order to avoid his father while we still could before he left for England the following day. I held his hand and jumped through waves with him and kissed him when the water calmed down.

 

Even hours later, his lips tasted salty, the most perfect lips I’d ever tasted. His skin was hot against my skin, delicate and soft beneath the sheets as I rocked into him, sweating and swearing at the way his body felt when it was engulfing me.

 

“Mi alma,” he whispered on the end of a moan. “Tienes mi alma.”

 

“What does that mean?” I asked, running my hand down his back and kissing his cheek.

 

“You have my soul,” he said.

 

“Oh fuck,” I screamed as he gripped my sweating back and dragged his fingers down. I’d never been more thankful for my parents to be out salsa dancing. I moved my hips forward and backwards, admiring the glowing person below me. His cock was thick and heavy, resting against his belly. I took it in hand and marveled at the way it felt, then began stroking in time with my thrusts into his body.

 

Matt yelled loudly when I hit his spot, and I saw stars. We both panted into the stuffy air and I ran my hands through his sweaty hair.

 

“I’m so close,” I moaned. My orgasm was growing deep in my belly, so close to blossoming. “Oh God, Matt.”

 

“Dom,” he mewled, wrapping his legs around my back. The nails of his fingers dragging through my skin gave me that little extra push, and I thrusted myself deep inside of him while giving his cock a big stroke. “I’m going to come.”

 

“Me too. Okay, I- Oh fuck, Matthew.”

 

“Dominic.”

 

It was over in such a flash. Our orgasms came at the same time, and before I knew it I had pulled out of him, disposed of the condom in the trash, and was laying beside him with my hand across his lower belly.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

 

“Right?!” I said, absolutely breathless. I turned over to find him smiling shyly up at the ceiling. I couldn’t control myself; I kissed him again. And again. And then again. I kissed him so many times that night that they all just faded together into one big long string of affection. “I think I might love you,” I said.

 

“Think?” he asked with a giggle.

 

“Well, I-”

 

“Because I know I love you,” he said, lacing our fingers together.

 

My chest fluttered. “How do you say ‘I love you’ in Spanish?”

 

“Te amo.”

 

I smiled and shut my eyes, bringing his lips to mine again. “Te amo,” I whispered.

 

~

 

The tenth day, as I was walking Matt back to his room, his dad saw us and brought his fist to Matt’s cheekbone. I saw everything happen, and Matt screamed at me to go before his dad got to me. I didn’t want to leave, but Matt’s cries were my every motivation.

 

By the time I got to my room, I ran straight past the still messy sheets from our night together and pounded on my parents’ door. Mom was quick to open it up, and upon seeing the tears streaming down my face, pulled me into her arms.

 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she said. “It’s okay.”

 

It wasn’t okay.

 

The last I saw of Matt that day was his dad pulling him by the arm into a cab loaded with luggage. I screamed out, and Matt whipped around.

 

“I love you. I will find you!”

 

Droplets of tears dripped across his swollen and bruised cheek. He mouthed the words ‘I love you’ back to me before the door was slammed shut.

 

“Fuck!” I sobbed, falling to the tiled floors as tourists walked around me to check into the resort. Some stopped and stared, most kept on walking. It wasn’t until an hour later that Mom found me and brought me back to the room.

 

Four hours later and we were loading our own luggage into the same cab Matt had been in just hours before. I cried and cried and pressed my face into the seat, smelling the faintest scent of him still lingering in the material. Dad told me it was all in my head, but it was all I had to hold onto.

 

~

 

The eleventh day I was sitting in a small restaurant in Madrid, Spain. The waitress had long since brought my check, but I was still enjoying my last cup of coffee when I heard the bell over the door ring. I paid no attention to it, and turned back to highlighting my lesson plan book. I laughed at the seemingly simple English my students would be learning later that week. Oh how they would love the lesson on homonyms.

 

I sipped my coffee and arched my ear to hear the conversation between whoever had just entered the restaurant and the waitress.

 

“Un té por favor, azúcar y leche.”

 

I froze. My pencil dropped from my hand and I turned around. After ten years living of in Spain, learning and teaching the language, there he was, the inspiration for the road I took in life.

 

He looked the same: pale and small. He was older. His jaw squared out, his cheekbones were sharper (if that was even possible), and he carried himself with an aura of sophistication. Our eyes met somewhere in the middle of the restaurant, frozen between rows of tables and chairs.

 

Without thought, I rose from my chair and walked toward him, my hand automatically lifting to just under his jaw where stubble was growing.

 

“Matthew,” I whispered.

 

A tiny smile grew on the edge of his lips before it was covered by my own lips. I swore I tasted the salt from the ocean still, so familiar yet so foreign to me, a country I hadn’t set foot on since the most heartbreaking day of my life, ten years previous.

 

“You’re here,” he said quietly to the warm air between us, bringing his hand to my cheek.

 

“I told you I’d find you,” I said back, blinking once and letting a single tear drip down my face. He quickly kissed it away.

 

“Todavía tienes mi alma,” he whispered quickly.

 

I grinned, because I understood him.

 

“Quiero que vayas a mi casa,” I whispered back.

 

And he did.

 

~

 

It’s our twelfth day together. His chest is rising and falling beneath my hand and his neck is painted with my love bites. The way he looks at me is something I can’t begin to describe. I kiss his lips and watch the way he smiles and stretches his arms above his head, hitting his hands on the headboard on my bed. He giggles, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

 

“Te amo,” he says sleepily, his eyelashes fluttering for a few seconds.

 

“I love you too,” I say quietly and repeatedly, kissing him again and again, every time I tell him I love him. “I love you so much.”

 

His eyes shine with love, a kind of love that is impossible to put into words.

 

So far, the twelfth day is my favorite day, but I’m sure the thirteenth day and all the days following it won’t be too bad either.


End file.
